


Something Shared

by LucilleBarker



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Angst, Demiromantic Kim Wexler, Demisexual Kim Wexler, F/M, Loss of Parent(s), Minor Character Death, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27098209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucilleBarker/pseuds/LucilleBarker
Summary: This was their pattern—their friendship inter-stitched with moments of emotional connection and physical need.Kim and Jimmy’s connection deepens as they confront grief and loss. (Semi-sequel to Nothing Special.)
Relationships: Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman/Kim Wexler
Comments: 16
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole of this fic takes place between November(ish) 1998 to December 2000, covering the time period of the “Winner” and “Klick” flashbacks. Also, a lot of angst... but it’s me. You should know this by now. ❤️ 
> 
> If you haven’t read Nothing Special, you should still be able to read Something Shared just fine. But it definitely helps to read Nothing Special first for context.

Kim’s earliest memory is the only one she has of her parents happy together. Her mother, Beth, had dressed her up in a rough gingham dress and spray-painted an old pair of shoes red. Her eyes traced the telephone wires that lined the sky as her father drove down the road in his muddied up Chevy, paint cans and wood rolling around in the bed of the truck. 

“Kim, you’re gonna get carsick, look at me,” her mother said. “You wanna play I Spy? Huh? Here, I’ll go first… I spy with my little eye—“

“Trees!”

“I didn’t say anything yet, you goober!” 

Kim screamed as her mother tickled her. “No!”

“Girls,” her dad jokingly bemoaned. “Your fighting will tear this family apart.”

They pulled up to her Uncle Henry’s trailer home, surrounded by neighbors and friends that howled at the moon and chugged from aluminum cans. Kim had barely heaved the door open when her cousin Pauline raced up to meet them, dressed up like Snow White with an apple in one hand and a pumpkin-shaped basket in the other. 

“Hi, Aunt Beth! Hi Uncle Travis! _Kim_ —” Pauline took Kim’s hand and dragged her out of the truck—“come on! We’re gonna go trick-or-treating!”

“Nuh-uh!” Beth interjected. “It is too late to go trick-or-treating.”

“But the neighbors still have some! They promised they’d save some for Kim—“

“Let ‘em go, Beth,” said Travis Wexler. “Pauline can handle Kim for a while. Go on, girls!”

“Travis—wait, Pauline, where are you going? Kim, get back here!”

Beth’s voice raised at her husband, but the further down the road Pauline dragged Kim, it became a muffled echo in the crowd of rednecks hooting and hollering. The girls marched from house to house, wrinkled women dropping chocolates, taffy, and jelly beans into their baskets. 

“For Dorothy and Snow White! Watch out for them witches girls! Oo-Ooo-ooo!”

Kim looked up at Pauline, two years older and a hand taller as she pulled Kim from door to door. Would she be this tall and brave when she turned seven? Or could she stay this way forever? Never grow up, never fight with anybody.

Pauline led Kim back home, the little girl having to scurry to keep up with her cousin’s long strides. The trailer home wasn’t hard to find—Uncle Henry had started a bonfire that cast the party-goers in a furious light, their shadows reaching out into the night. Music blared from the radio in someone’s car, battling with the cacophony of men and women laughing and swearing.

“ _When are you gonna come down?_  
 _When are you going to land?_  
 _I should have stayed on the farm_  
 _I should have listened to my old man…”_

Next to the car, Kim saw her parents with their arms wrapped around each other. They swayed from side to side to the slow rhythm, each holding an aluminum can in one hand. Beth pulled back just enough to smile at her husband, then snuggled back into his shoulder.

 _Be like this forever_ , Kim wished. _Stop fighting. Stop talking. Be quiet and we could be happy like this all the time._

Pauline tapped her on the shoulder. “C’mon! Let’s go to my room. I’ve got some more candy in there, and we can play Go Fish or something.”

Her cousin went inside, but Kim stayed behind for just a moment longer. Travis’s foot hit a rock and he stumbled. Liquid frothed and fizzed out of their cans as they both caught their balance. Neither screamed or blamed each other—they laughed, cackled, clung tight to each other in the fire’s orange glow.

_“So goodbye yellow brick road_   
_Where the dogs of society howl_   
_You can't plant me in your penthouse_   
_I'm going back to my plough_

_Back to the howling old owl in the woods_   
_Hunting the horny back toad…”_

As her mom and dad turned in their small circle, Beth lifted her head up and opened her eyes. Then she smiled and waved at her little girl. And the little girl in the gingham dress and ruby red slippers waved back.

_“Oh, I've finally decided my future lies_   
_Beyond the yellow brick road…”_

* * *

Jimmy’s finger hit the page, the impact making a _thwap_ against the laminate covering.

“This one?”

Kim shook her head. “No.”

“But it's ‘One Night in Bangkok!’ _One night in Bangkok and the world’s your oy-ster—!_ ”

“Jimmy, leave her alone.”

Jimmy brought the beer bottle up to his lips and swallowed. Their table was littered with shot glasses, bottles, and cocktail glasses. The crowd had dwindled to a few HHM employees and the karaoke bar’s usual patrons. In the corner booth, Ernie laid his head on Julie’s shoulder, eyes closed and oblivious to any possible HR violation even in the off-hours of Hamlin, Hamlin & McGill. Kim glanced at her watched as the second hand _tick-tick-ticked_ its way up to 12:34am. 

“Chuck! Chuck,” Jimmy slurred. “What time is it in Cicero? I wanna call Mom.”

“Trust me, Jimmy. She’s asleep.”

“I wish she coulda been here. Do you have your phone? Maybe I could leave a message with the nurse—?”

“Maybe wait until morning.”

“I should get a cellphone. She woulda liked this party, Mom loves parties—oooooh! ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart!’ Kim! Let's do it! Go put our names in!”

Kim scrunched her nose. “I think I’m gonna call it a night soon.”

“No, not yet! There’s still time to do ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’ too!”

Chuck made eye contact with Kim. His eyebrows raised. She nodded. James M. McGill, newly barred New Mexico lawyer, was cut off for the evening.

“Jimmy, why don’t I drive you home?” Chuck suggested.

Jimmy pouted. “But there’s still beer in this.”

Chuck stood up, held out his hand for his brother. “C’mon.”

Jimmy released an exasperated whine, defeated by the two responsible adults at the table. He took Chuck’s hand and both men groaned as one pulled and the other stood. Chuck held his little brother steady as Jimmy tried to find his footing on solid ground. Kim stood up and placed a hand on the young McGill’s shoulder.

“You good?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m good! I’m good! Bye, Kim.” Jimmy turned and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. He fell forward and she caught him, his weight heavy as his chest pressed against hers. “Oh! Sorry. But hey—gravity works!”

Jimmy stumbled back and Chuck maneuvered him so that Jimmy’s arm was around his shoulder and he supported him by the waist.

“Goodnight, Kim,” said Chuck.

Kim waved. The safest option since because despite the fact Jimmy called his brother “Chuck,” he was not _her_ brother. He was her boss, and therefore “Mr. McGill” or “sir” until told otherwise.

The brothers walked side by side toward the door as Jimmy shouted. “Bye, everyone! Bye, Kim! I love you! Love you, everyone!”

Kim’s eyes widened as the door took it’s time to shut, Jimmy crooning for all to hear and hopefully ignore. “ _The game is on again… a lover or a friend… A big thing or a small...The winner takes it all!_ ”

* * *

Kim rubbed her eyelids. She opened them again and the white glare of her computer screen blinded her. A doctor’s appointment and bad traffic had landed her in doc review that morning, hunched over documents and highlighting lines of numbers. Oddly, the punishment for her tardiness only lasted until mid-day, but the workload Howard had given her created an unbearable weight that she had to shed bit by bit as her colleagues marched out of their offices and cubicles and back to their homes. Even Chuck had left the office before her, walking past her office at five o’clock on the dot.

In the corner of the computer’s grey bar, thick black text read 7:21pm. The cursor in her word document blinked on and off. Now you see me, now you don’t. She could almost hear Jimmy saying the exact same thing. _I need to get out of here_.

Kim stood up and felt her bones pop, crack, and realign as she stretched her arms over her head. She went to the doorway and peaked her head out. Cubicles were empty, fluorescent lights lined the hallway as winter’s night sky darkened over her desert town. She could hear the faint sound Gesualdo vacuuming the carpet on the opposite end of the building.

She picked up her office landline and dialed the number she had copied on a post-it note just a week before. Mid-ring, a soft and indeterminate British accent answered.

“Law Offices of James M. McGill, Esquire.”

“Hi, Mrs. Doubtfire, can you put Jimmy on the phone?”

“Oh. Hi.”

She snickered. “You sound disappointed it’s me calling.”

“No, I’m not. It’s just… it’s been a bad day.” Jimmy’s voice crackled over the line. His cell service could be bad, sure, but the distance and quiet in his voice was amplified.

“I’m sorry. Hey, if it helps, I was going to catch a late showing at the theatre. The pickings are slim, but _You’ve Got Mail_ is basically _The Shop Around the Corner_. I can buy tickets, and you can pay me back later.”

“Can’t. I’m, uh, going out of town.”

“Are you going on vacation? I thought you were gonna start looking for offices this week.”

Silence. Kim pulled her phone away from her ear. The call hadn’t been dropped. The small green screen continued to track every minute and second.

“Jimmy?” she said. “Are you there?”

He answered, his voice small and lost. “Mom’s not doing too good.”

Kim’s breath left her body. “Oh my god, Jimmy. I’m so sorry. Shit.”

“Chuck’s set up the flight and everything. He’s picking me up in a few hours, we’re flying out at 9pm, so, um… rain check on that movie, I guess?”

“Yeah. No, I mean—Jimmy, don’t worry about it. Okay? Call me if you need anything.”

“Mmhm.”

Jimmy hung up without a goodbye, the dial-tone humming in her ear _._

* * *

“ _Hello! You’ve reached the law offices of James M. McGill Esquire! Kindly leave—_ ”

Kim pressed the red button on her cellphone. She brought a cigarette to her lips and her lighter ignited a small flame. Before her dad was gone, before their lives crumbled into further disarray, Kim would sit outside with her mother as she smoked a cigarette. In the winter months, Kim would bring two fingers to her lips and then blow, watching the cold turn her air into smoke. 

She listened to the echo of the parking garage, the rumble of a manual transmission shifting into gear as it left. A few spots were empty now, mostly of young interns and new parents that had to make use of the time they had. Down the way in a marked spot was Chuck’s car, parked at an angle where each tire barely kissed the white lines. The spaces on either side were left empty, HHM employees collectively avoiding any responsibility for scratching or trapping their boss’s car. The same avoidance carried over into the day’s meetings and brief hallway interactions. Yet Chuck carried on, professional as ever if, not more quiet than usual.

Suddenly her cellphone vibrated in her hand. She pressed the small green button, not bothering looking at the screen.

“Kim Wexler.”

“Hey. Just saw that you called.”

She exhaled at the sound of Jimmy’s voice. “Yeah, I noticed that Chuck was back in the office. I figured if he was back, then you probably were, too. And… I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Thanks.” Silence hung between them for a moment. Then he added, “I should let you get back to it.”

“I’m staying at the office late,” she said. “But Heather is staying with her boyfriend tonight. If you want to meet me at my place, feel free to show up anytime after 8pm, okay?”

“Okay. Either way, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay. Bye.”

She let the cigarette fall from her fingers, a tiny sizzle sparked as it hit the pavement. 

* * *

Kim barely had her hair out of her ponytail when she heard a knock at the door. She ran her fingers over the dent left by the elastic, smoothing out her blonde curl as she padded through the apartment with bare feet. On the other side of the door was Jimmy, dressed in a blue polo and jeans. His skin was pale, his bangs hiding one of the dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Come in. You want a beer?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

Kim moved to make room for him to pass over the threshold. She pushed the door closed, taking a moment to readjust her tank top to cover the small portion of the blue bra that peaked over the collar. Jimmy leaned against the small dining room table, uncommitted to sitting but too exhausted to stand.

“So, I guess Heather and the boyfriend are getting serious,” he said.

Kim joined him, leaned on the table next to him in solidarity. “Yeah. She asked me if I knew when the lease was up, so I think my days here are numbered. I’m keeping my eyes open for a place of my own.”

“Now that you’re making the big bucks, you can afford to be on your own.”

Kim paused. This version of Jimmy McGill was muted, energy dampened by days of travel and lack of sleep and confronting loss. Holding onto the edge of a cliff and trying to distract her with a joke.

“Have you been sleeping?” she asked.

He shrugged. What’re gonna do?

“I gotta admit,” she continued. “I wasn’t exactly surprised you two came back so soon. But I did hope that he would take some time off.”

“Chuck had that case that he wanted to get back to. Schwartz, right? Anyway, the funeral happened about three days after, and we’d already been there for about a week by that point.”

“Was Rebecca there?”

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah. Flew in from Berlin. Offered to play at the service. It was nice. Reconciliation might be on the table.”

“That’s good.”

They stood together and silence blanketed over them. Jimmy gnawed his lower lip, eyes trained on one spot on the floor.

“I’m worried about him,” he admitted.

“Chuck?”

“He was just so… Not a single tear. Not at the hospital, not at the funeral. Nothing.”

Kim leaned forward, trying to catch his attention away from the ground and up to her level. “Chuck doesn’t seem like someone who would broadcast his emotions like that.”

One of Jimmy’s hands gestured near his head like he was trying to catch one of the thoughts speeding past. “He’s been talking about headaches. Like, the light hurts his eyes or something. Nothing major. But is that it? Is a tension headache all he’s gonna have?”

“Did he have a good relationship with her?”

He looked at her then. “With Mom? No, Mom loved him. Mom loved everyone, and she made sure you knew it. Someone could rob the house, and Mom would ask him how his day was going.”

Kim smiled. “Jesus, really?”

“Yeah. But when she got mad? Oof! Politics, especially.” Jimmy’s face creased into a grin, tired but the life creeping back into him as he reflected on a memory. “I remember this one night she really lost it. I was about to turn eight, and my buddy Marco was over at our house the night of the election. November 5th, right? So we’re playing in my room, making jokes about Father Mahoney… and then we hear my mom scream, ‘Fucking Nixon?!’”

Her eyebrows raised. She tried to picture this woman, this mother from the Midwest that was willing to make tea for burglars but had no patience for Tricky Dick.

“My dad’s trying to calm her down,” Jimmy continued. “He’s saying, ‘He has good values, Ruth. It’s just four years.’ And my mom isn’t having any of that shit. She was pretty good about keeping the language out of the house, but that night my vocabulary expanded. Then she barged into my room and I’m expecting to be in trouble, right? No. She said, ‘I’ll give you your birthday presents now if you can get Richard Nixon out of the White House.’”

“How did that end up?”

“It took about five years, but I think my angry letter written in marker really stuck with him.” They laughed together. But then Jimmy stopped, remembering something new. “She was really proud of Chuck when he became a lawyer. Her dream was for him to be a judge for the Supreme Court. Couldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Your mom sounds like a great lady.”

“Yeah, she is…” His voice cracked on the word “is.” He turned his face away from her, trying to breathe in and out but every exhale more shaky.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Gimme a minute.”

Kim lifted her hand, hesitated before she gently placed it on his shoulder. Unsatisfied with that, she turned her body toward him and wrapped him up in her arms. She rubbed her hands up and down his back, up and down across the rough texture of the cotton. His face buried against her neck, his breath and tears warming her skin.

She kissed his cheek and then his lips. A quick show of affection to ground him in this moment where he had her. Jimmy stared at her, his face red but his eyes sharp and shining from tears. He cradled Kim’s face in his hands and kissed her, this time deeper. This was their pattern, their friendship inter-stitched with moments of emotional connection and physical need. She closed her eyes and ignored their ongoing refrain in her head.

_Do you know?_

_Not yet._

Without warning, he was pushing her against the dining room table, pressing himself against her. She couldn’t catch her breath and she was growing more and more lightheaded with every kiss. His hands traveled under her tank top, his fingertips digging into her back hard enough to pinch her skin. The table’s hard edge against her hip brought her back to their days at HHM, discovering this thing they shared. Brought her back to that day in the elevator. When he pulled the emergency stop button, Jimmy had pushed her against the wall and began kissing her hard and fast. Nothing but heat with no hint of comfort or control.

This wasn’t something borne of this impossible connection they had. This wasn’t even sex for the sake of sex itself. This was desperation. She was no longer a partner or a friend, but a shield against whatever invisible turmoil he was experiencing. Hiding. Using. Taking.

Kim pulled away, held him back so that she could place as much distance between them as possible.

He took a step toward her. “Kim—”

She retreated a step back. “Not a good idea.”

“But I thought you—“

“You’re _grieving_ , Jimmy.”

His brow furrowed, the shine of his blue eyes turning to ice. “You don’t think I know that?”

“I’m saying that even if we did, it wouldn’t help anything. It’s just going to complicate things.”

“‘Complicate things,’” he repeated, his voice low and monotone. “I need to head home.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you mad at me?”

Jimmy pulled his car keys out of his pocket. “Listen, I’m gonna be real busy looking for an office, so don’t worry about checking in on me, okay?”

“Jimmy, wait. Stop—!”

Jimmy turned on her, his face red, the cords of his neck rigid. He threw up a condescending finger and the fury in his voice carried across the whole of Albuquerque. “ _I don’t need your fucking pity, Kim!_ ”

The air left Kim’s body, her jaw clenched tight as she watched Jimmy jerk the door open. He didn’t close it behind him. So she stood there and let the heat from the apartment and the chill of the night air intermingle and battle. 

* * *

Kim stared at the small photo in her hand, a two-year-old girl with black curls and large brown eyes gazing back at her. She was starting to look more like her mother everyday. 

“Wow, she’s getting big,” she said.

She handed the photo back to her colleague. Diane Lopez-Bennett took it from her, placing it into her wallet. “I know. God, she used to be so tiny.”

Forque rustled with waitstaff weaving in between tables, serving salads and mid-day cocktails to high class businessmen. Kim‘s fingers kept plucking at the cuff of her blazer, as if anyone could spot the one loose thread that could hint she bought a knockoff brand from Marshall’s. On the other hand, Diane seemed oblivious to the designer suits and expensive meals around them. Her hair frizzed a bit more than it did when they were at UNM, and there were small stains on her dark purple blouse. She looked tired, but she also looked happy.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Kim chuckled.

“Zach and I have to juggle a lot, but it’s been great,” Diane answered. “We might need to have a talk soon, though.”

Kim cocked her head. “Why is that?”

“I might transition to part-time. Or stay home and do pro-bono work for a while.”

“Diane, you worked so hard—”

“I know, but I don’t want to miss watching Elena grow up. And Zach and I want to have more kids. We can’t both keep working long hours. Someone has to stay home with them.”

Kim sighed. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Alright, alright, enough about me and my drama! What about you?”

“What about me?”

Diane held out her hands, gesturing to the whole wide world. “Life outside of HHM. You got anyone special? Do you want marriage? Kids?”

Kim’s lips thinned as she smiled. _Oh, where to begin in any of that_ , she thought. She plucked at the thread of her cuff again, felt it pop as she loosened another stitch.

“I never really imagined myself getting married,” Kim admitted. “And my life would really allow for that right now. But maybe someday… if I meet someone special.”

Diane sipped her Chardonnay, waving a hand at Kim. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d be a great mom. You have the patience. And I’ve seen you angry. I mean, who could forget Coldstone Kim Wexler and her competition team? Any kid with you as a mom would be terrified of crossing you. I think you have that perfect balance.”

Underneath their table, Kim’s shoe dug into the floor of the restaurant as if she could anchor herself to Albuquerque whenever Red Cloud invaded her mind. Memories of bonfires and rednecks howling at the moon. Running through the snow with a small shoebox that held her life, feet going numb as she chased Beth Wexler. Sitting across from her mother as she sobbed, _Then why are you leaving me?_

Instead, she politely replied, “Thank you.”

* * *

Smoke wafted above Kim as she leaned against the wall. Tires screeched as they made a turn, announcing the approach of a car. She checked her watch—too early for someone to come back from lunch but too late for someone to come into work. In the distance, an unfamiliar vehicle approached. As it got closer, Kim could see the car’s yellow body scarred with scuffs and scrapes, one headlight fogged from age. On one side, the backdoor mismatched with its red clay hue.

Smoke and breath left her body in a short puff when the driver exited the car.

_Jimmy._

“Hey.” It escaped her lips, instinct winning out over pride.

Jimmy saw her and his mouth dropped. “Hey.”

It had almost been five months since she last saw him. Nothing and everything changed in that span of time. His suit enveloped his body and created a boxy shaped that hid his frame. It looked like a brown pinstripe costume piece that even David Byrne wouldn’t touch. This was his image of a lawyer—a cartoon wolf from a Looney Tunes episode.

“What are you doing here?”

Jimmy fiddled with one of the buttons on his suit jacket. “Chuck wanted to meet up for lunch. Talk about Mom’s estate, not that there’s much to it.”

She tapped her cigarette, ashes floating gracefully down. “New car?”

He looked in the direction of the car, and then back at her. “Yep. 1998 Suzuki Esteem. It’s an import.”

Kim brought the cigarette back to her lips, tasting heat and nicotine. Silence hung between them. What was there to say?

“Okay, I guess I better head up.” Jimmy walked in her direction, reached for the glass door that led to the elevators. But he paused, considered something, and turned back to face her. “Hey. I’m sorry about... everything. I was in a bad spot. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that.”

Kim looked down at the ashes burning away at the end of her cigarette. In her periphery, she caught sight of Jimmy’s loafers. On one shoe, a thin metal wire holds the gold clasps together. One little paper clip trying its best to complete the image of the person they were both pretending to be.

“It’s okay,” she answered. “We should catch up soon. I’ll give you a call.”

Jimmy’s eyes brightened in the shadows. With a smile, he left her to her smoke break. The tune of the elevator’s doors opening and then closing muffled his exit. Kim examined the pinkish mark where her lips touch the filter. She smiled at the possibility of Jimmy sharing her lipstick-stained cigarettes again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the sex lives. It’s also about to get more sad. Enjoy!

Kim spit into the sink, rushed to clean her toothbrush as her home phone continued to ring. _Shit, shit, shit._ She heard the toothbrush clamber into the sink as she quickly shuffled into the living room to pick up the landline. 

“Hello?”

“Kim, it’s Pauline.”

Kim blinked. She and Pauline rarely spoke outside of holidays. Not out of maliciousness or spite. But whatever bond they had as children was stretched thin as her older cousin grew older. Pauline was already dreaming about weddings and children, draping a bedsheet over Kim like a bridal veil. Her dream was fulfilled, and every year Kim received both a phone call and a generic Christmas cards about her gratitude for another year with her second husband and their kids. Gratitude for a happy life in Red Cloud, Nebraska.

“Hey, Pauline. It’s been a while. I guess Christmas came early?” Kim chuckled at her own joke. Pauline, however, was noticeably silent.

“Listen, um, Aunt Beth—I mean, your mom isn’t doing too good.”

Kim rolled her eyes. She’d been waiting for this day for years. Almost five years since Pauline gave Beth Wexler her estranged daughter’s number. Five years since Kim stood still and listened to her mother insist that she was sober and told her she was sorry for being a bad mother. Five years since the last words she heard from her mother were “I love you.”

_I knew it._

“So she relapsed?”

The line went quiet for a moment, and then her cousin spoke: “Like she has cancer.”

Kim froze. The A/C unit rumbled to life, vibrating in time with the feedback playing in her ears. _Cancer_. 

“Okay. How bad is it?”

“Bad enough for doctors to say, ‘Sorry, there’s nothing we can do.’”

Kim leaned against the wall. The cruel part of her heart smiled, said that she deserved it. Her mother deserved it after all of that drinking and screaming and chaos that she poured into Kim’s life with the natural ease of neglect. An attempt to lure her back in, using her as a step in her recovery. Expecting hope and forgiveness from a stranger where Beth Wexler’s daughter used to be. 

“I don’t…” Kim stuttered. She cleared her throat, tried again to steady her tone. “What are you expecting me to do here?”

“Fly down. Help her put her affairs in order.” Pauline’s voice heightened as she kept talking. “You remember what happened with Grandma, right? All of the shit that happened with her stuff? Well, you’re a lawyer now! You can help her figure stuff out—”

“I’m not barred in Nebraska.”

“—and maybe you’re her _daughter_ and can do the right thing by her! For Chrissakes, Kim.”

Kim’s nostrils flared. “I have a life here. I can’t just leave whenever I want. I’m getting my career off the ground.”

“I’m not asking you to move back. But she… she shouldn’t be afraid to call you, Kim. You’re all she talks about, but when I tell her to call you, she just says she doesn’t want to bother you. Look, I can pick you up at Lincoln Airport, and drive you back to Red Cloud. It doesn’t have to be long. A weekend. A fucking day!”

A sour taste filled her mouth at ‘Red Cloud.’ Kim ran her fingers over the wall, feeling the texture of paint drips and stucco. She imagined a sick woman asking for her daughter, asking for forgiveness. But why couldn’t she have been that woman twenty or thirty years earlier?

“I’ll make some calls to lawyers in the area that specialize in last wills and testaments,” Her tone was cold and professional. “And I’ll see if I can make it down for a couple of days soon.”

Pauline sighed in relief. “Good. She’ll be happy to see you.”

Kim swallowed her rage, and ended their conversation with a lie. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

* * *

“Thanks again, Ernie.”

Ernie stepped over a battlefield of cardboard boxes, reading for his keys on the kitchen counter. “You’re welcome, Kim.”

Kim opened one of three pizza boxes and presented the few remaining pieces. “Do you want some pizza for the road?”

“I really do!” Ernie marched his way back in her direction and lifted the box from her hands. “Thanks, Kim. See ya, Jimmy.”

Jimmy lifted his beer bottle in salute as Ernie exited, fumbling with the pizza box as he closed the door behind him. Jimmy reached into the fridge and passed Kim her second beer of the evening. 

“Well, congrats,” he said. “On this day of your lease—October 23rd, the Year of Our Lorde 2000-–you’re your own woman with your own apartment.”

“Thanks. For the congrats and for driving the truck, which Burt and Sarah will pick up in about half an hour.” They clinked their bottles together, and she twisted the bottle cap off of her Shiner Bock. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask: I’ve been seeing you a lot at HHM this past week. Is there something going on?”

“Um, like what?”

Kim’s eyebrows curled up. “Like maybe they’re changing their tune.”

“As if Howard Hamlin is going to climb down from that pedestal his daddy made for him before he died? No, not that. It’s Chuck, actually. His migraines have been getting worse. Like, not safe to drive kind of migraines.”

“He should see a doctor.”

“He has. A few times. And each quack suggested ‘monitoring’ the situation—whatever the hell that means—so now I’m the driver to his Miss Daisy.”

“I didn’t know that. To be honest, I barely see him come out of his office nowadays.”

“Yeah. The divorce probably doesn’t help.”

“I thought you said that they were doing better, that they were reconciling—”

“I was wrong. Shocker, huh?” His face shifted into a somber expression. “How’s your mom?”

Kim shrugged. “I haven’t spoken to her.”

“I thought you were gonna fly down.”

“Yeah, but we got swept up in this Kleinman dispute, and it’s looking more and more like a settlement isn’t gonna happen. But I’m going to.”

Jimmy picked at the corner of the beer bottle label. His silence louder than the words left unsaid. _At least tell her goodbye. You’ll regret it if you don’t._

Kim exhaled. She made him a promise she was afraid to keep. “I’m going to,” she repeated.

He pursed his lips, then took a swig of beer. “Alright. So, where is your TV going?”

* * *

Kim gasped as the ringing of her landline ripped her away from sleep and into the waking world. Her blurry vision charted the glowing red lines on her digital clock: 2:45am. She reached out, grasped for her phone in the dark and exhaled in relief when the ringing finally stopped.

“Hello?”

“Kim, it’s Pauline.”

Kim rubbed at her eyelids, phosphenes blinking with 2:45am like neon lights. “Pauline? What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, Kim.” Pauline hiccuped on the words, sounded like she was choking. “Your mom’s gone.”

Kim opened her eyes. The clock switched from 2:45 to 2:46. Her first thought was almost childish. _“My mom’s gone?” Gone where?_

Pauline sniffled over the phone, cleared her throat to fill the silence. “The lawyer you found helped Aunt Beth out a lot. I’m the executor of her estate since Mitch and I have been doing most of the caretaking for the last month or so. Dad says we’ll have to plan the funeral soon…”

“I’ll be there.”

“You can stay with Mitch and I, if you want. The kids can sleep in our room for a night or two.”

“I’ll get a hotel. I don’t want to put you out.”

“Okay. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

Kim listened to the dial-tone as the call was disconnected. She picked the phone up again and dialed. The other line rang and rang and rang until a very tired man answered with a half-hearted British accent.

“Law Offices of James M. McGill?”

“Hey. It’s me.”

“Kim?” Jimmy groaned on the other side of Albuquerque. She could faintly hear pipes in the background. “Kim, it’s three o’clock in the morning—”

“My mom’s dead.” Her tongue wrapped around the words like she was speaking a foreign language. It felt clumsy, maybe she didn’t say it right. _Quelle heure et il? Yo soy abogada. My mom’s dead. My mom is dead. My mother is dead._

“Give me twenty minutes.”

“No, Jimmy, it’s okay—”

There was a _click_ and the dial-tone hummed a low, mournful sound in her ear. 

* * *

_Knock-knock._

Kim answered the door and there was Jimmy in his University of American Samoa sweater and a wrinkled pair of denim jeans. His hair was tangled and mussed, bangs once again hanging in his face.

“Hey,” he said. 

She didn’t say anything. What was there to say? The December chill creeped in and she was suddenly aware of her exposed legs. She should have put on a robe or some pajama pants. She pulled down at the hem of her Kansas City Royals shirt in an attempt to make herself decent.

Jimmy moved passed her, walking through the entryway and making his way to the kitchen. He rifled through the cabinets, searching until he found the glasses. He pulled one out and turned on the faucet. She followed, lost in her own apartment. It felt large and empty. A couch and a coffee table in front of the TV, but not much else. Was she supposed to have more things? Her toes curled as she remembered running through the snow, her whole life packed into a box as she chased after her mother. Didn’t look back in case the landlord spotted them running away from their never-ending debt and their mistakes.

“Let’s get you some water,” Jimmy said. “Maybe coffee?”

“Okay.”

“Here, have this first.” He handed her the glass. “Coffee filters are…?”

Kim pointed to the drawer under the coffeemaker. Jimmy went to work, digging out a frail, crimped sheet and placing it into the basket, measured out the coffee grounds by eye. He took another glass from the cabinet and filled up another glass of water. Kim saved him a trip, lifting the lid and pouring what was supposed to be her water into the coffeemaker. She hit the button and the water gurgled to life, steam blooming above as the water heated up.

“I have to call the airport, get a ticket back home… I should be doing that now, I guess,” she said to herself. The list started to spill from her list as each thought ran through her head. “I’ll have to pack. I need to call Howard, or maybe go into work and tell him in person. Fuck, then there’s Kleinman. Going into work would be better. Set everything up before I—”

“You can do all of that later.”

“No, this has to get done. Where’s my phone—?”

Jimmy placed his hands on her shoulders. “Kim, stop. Breathe.”

The coffeemaker coughed and hissed, the last drops of the dark liquid dripping into the pot. Jimmy ushered her away from the kitchen, encouraged her to sit down on the couch. He left her there, the opening and closing of cabinets clacking again, liquid being poured into a cup. When he returned, Jimmy held out a coffee mug and Kim took it without question.

“Alright, here’s your coffee. I will call the airline and we can get you set up with a flight to Nebraska.”

“I can handle this.”

“I know you can.”

Jimmy pulled out his cellphone and pressed one button and then another. “Hi, operator? Can you patch me through to the Albuquerque International Sunport, please? Thanks… Hi there, how soon can I get a flight to…Red Cloud, Nebraska?”

He looked to her for confirmation. She corrected him. “Lincoln Airport. There’s no commercial airline that goes to Red Cloud. The flight needs to go to Lincoln Airport.”

Jimmy stood up, continued to talk and negotiate on the other end of the phone. Kim barely listened to him, going in and out of the plans that were centered on her but didn’t involve her. The exterior of the ceramic mug radiated the heat of the coffee inside. She tightened her hold on the mug and her knuckles turned white. Her palms burned, but the pain only made her grip it harder.

“You have a flight booked for Thursday,” Jimmy informed her as he hung up the phone. “So you can call Howard tomorrow, tell him that you’re taking some time off.”

“Okay,” she mumbled. The cushion next to her dipped under Jimmy’s weight. His hands covered her and guided her coffee mug to the small table in front of them. Kim let go of the mug and he folded his hands over hers. She wondered if he could feel the heat that seeped into her palms.

“And look, don’t let anyone guilt you into coming back sooner than you need to. That Kleinman stuff is going to be fine without you. Howard’s taking the lead on it right?”

“Right.”

“And Chuck’s been helping him behind the scenes. Really, Chuck’s doing most of the work and feeding Hamlin his lines like he’s Brando on _Apocalypse Now_. The machine’s gonna keep working if you’re not there. Take your time.”

Kim gazed at his hands covering hers. A calloused thumb rubbed back and forth, and she counted the small scars that were faded with age. One new cut that was thin and reminded her of the constant paper cuts of the mailroom. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Seriously.”

He responded with a rueful smile. “You’re welcome, seriously.”

“You really didn’t have to come over.”

“I had to. I’m part of the welcoming committee for the Dead Mom and Dad Club.”

A laugh bubbled through her, a sharp and jagged sound. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed the back of his thumb. Innocent and thankful. 

_Not_ _innocent_ , something whispered in her. It hissed at her again. _Not innocent. Aware. Selfish. Vengeful. Liar._

Kim unfolded his hand and kissed his palm. Jimmy sighed her name when she placed his hand over her breast. He swallowed has he gently massaged her breast, but his pupils were blown wide, dark eyes betraying his last attempts at chivalry. She straddled his lap and pressed her lips to his. Jimmy’s breath hitched when she ran her tongue over his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth for her. She moaned as their tongues danced, surrendered to that need that pulsed through her and yearned for him.

She did the right thing when she turned him away all those months ago. Whatever it was he was after, he was at the whim of his grief and hurt, possessed by a self-loathing and rage that she did not understand at the time. Didn’t ask. But it didn’t matter because she was responsible for this broken creature, and she stopped him for his own good. For _their_ own good.

But Jimmy wasn’t her. She could trust him to be selfish and irresponsible. And he would do nothing when there was a chance to share their rage, their grief, their shame. The one opportunity where she was out of control and halfway down her free fall before she herself was split open.

Kim hummed as Jimmy ran his hands up and down her body, drifting under her shirt and drawing abstract lines on her back. She rubbed herself over his erection, and the friction of his hard length beneath denim sent a shiver up her spine. She sought out the feeling again, undulating her hips a second time and then a third. He dug his fingers into her hips, keeping her still even though she did her best to wiggle out of his hold.

“Are you trying to make me come in my jeans?” he asked.

“Yes.” She punctuated with word by biting his neck. 

Kim buried her hands beneath the hem of the white undershirt peeking beneath his sweater, pulled at it until his arms were up and above his head. Sweater and undershirt fell to the floor in a heap and Kim ran her hands over Jimmy’s exposed skin. Soft, pale skin dusted with chest hair and barely visible freckles.

He stroked his hand down over her stomach, down between her legs and massaged her over her panties. She fell onto him, tried to increase the pressure of his touch. He mouthed her breasts through the cotton fabric of her shirt as one finger traced over the crease of her thigh, slipped under the fabric and slid inside of her.

“Jesus, Jimmy.”

Another finger followed and Kim’s muscles clenched around them. He set the pace, pushing in and out of her, occasionally curling his fingers just so that had her digging her nails into his arms. She rocked her hips, rubbing her clit against the heel of his palm. The rhythm that they built together grew more erratic. She was on the verge, so close to her peak when he wrenched his fingers out of her and left her empty.

She whimpered at the loss, clawed his shoulders in retribution. But he picked her up and dropped her to lay flat on the couch, covering her and smothering her with kisses. Their teeth clacked together, and she could feel the tiny half-moon shapes left by her nails. He rolled his hips into her, his erection rubbing against her in slow measured movements that almost had her begging. But the noises that came out of her mouth were embarrassing and animalistic, keening and sobbing as if she were being driven insane from her desire.

“Is this what you want?” he groaned. Jimmy dragged her shirt up and lapped at a nipple, taking into his mouth. Kim grabbed for his belt, tried to yank him closer to her. Her pussy fucking _ached_.

Jimmy released her nipple with a _pop_ , moved away from her, sitting back on his knees and she followed him up. She nipped and kissed his chest as they both battled with his belt buckle and zipper, pushing his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock. He pinned her down on her back again, not bothering to pull down her underwear and instead shoving the fabric to one side. He kissed her, licking into her mouth and devouring her moan as he pushed slowly into her. 

She turned her face away, tried to suffocate those awful, desperate mewls into the back pillow. His hand tugged her chin back up, framing her face in his hands as he thrust into her hard. 

“ _Fuck_!” she cried. He slammed into her again, his eyes hungrily watching her. She wrapped her legs around him, gripped fistfuls of his hair as she attacked his mouth.

Kim bit his lower lip, sucked at his neck, scratched her nails down his sweat-slicked back. She wanted to mark him, bruise him, use his body as physical evidence of the damage she was capable of. Jimmy responded with rough and punishing strokes that had her writhing wildly beneath him. _Hiding, using, taking._

Jimmy reached for one of her hands, removing it from his back and grasping it tight as he brought it to his lips. He pressed his lips to her wrist, sucking at the pulse point with enough pressure that made her hips buck. He brought her hand down between them, positioned her fingers on her clit and pressed against her hard with her own touch. Her foot knocked the coffee table and she was dimly aware of a crash. She was drowning, gasping for air and thrashing while each wave of pleasure battered her and drug her deeper down.

“Come for me,” he moaned. “Come for me, Kim, I‘m so close, I need you to come.”

Kim arched her back as her orgasm ripped through her body, her voice raw as she roared into the crook of his neck. She convulsed from the power of it, whimpering and clinging to Jimmy as he throbbed inside of her. He panted next to her shoulder as warmth filled her. They didn’t use a condom. Didn’t even think about it. _Not that it matters_ , whispered that dark voice inside of her. His cock started to soften inside of her, and in the next moment, he pulled out of her. Empty. She could feel his semen dripping between her thighs.

Kim laid where she was as Jimmy pulled his boxers and jeans over his hips. He carefully picked up large broken ceramic pieces that had crashed to the floor, and carried them back to the kitchen to throw them in the trash. He returned with a dish towel and mopped up black liquid and smaller shards that spilled across the hardwood floor.

She crawled away from him, got to her feet and made her way toward the bathroom. She peeled her shirt and underwear off, stepped into the shower and turned the nozzle. Cold water stabbed at her skin with a piercing density until the temperature changed bit by bit and heat soothed her. She leaned her head back and hot water soaked through her hair and washed away the scent of sex and rage and confusion.

Kim opened her eyes, and Jimmy’s shadow hovered by the shower door.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked.

She observed him beyond the fogged up glass. He was holding his sweater and shirt under his arm, ready to go if she told him to go. Teeth marks and blotches where she sucked at his skin trailed down his neck and over his shoulders and chest. The mirror reflected bright red lines down the backs of his shoulders. The way Jimmy was looking at her….

She pushed the door aside, water sluicing off her body and onto the tile floor. Kim encircled his waist, nuzzled into his collarbone. He dropped his shirts onto the floor and pulled her closer. She nipped at the mark on his neck as she undid the buckle of his belt again, taking her time to push his pants and underwear down his legs, and kissed her way back up. 

“No,” she finally answered as she guided Jimmy into the shower with her and closed the door behind them.

* * *

A cellphone woke them up an hour and a half later, the device ringing and vibrating itself closer to the edge. She groaned, closed her eyes against the pounding in her head as she clutched Jimmy tighter. She only loosened her hold on him when a reassuring touch grazed her back. Now free, he grabbed for his phone and draped an arm across his face.

“Hello?” he rasped. His body jolted upward as he recognized the voice of the speaker. “Chuck! Hey, what’s up?... Sure. Yeah, I can do that. Um, let me grab some coffee real quick and I’ll head over.”

Jimmy shut his cellphone and rolled out of bed. “Shit.”

“What is it?” Kim asked.

“Chuck needs another ride,” he explained as he left for the bathroom. He carried on talking, accompanied by the sound of his belt belt jingling and the scrape of his sweater grazing the couch. “I’m gonna have to hustle since he likes showing up at 7:00am, like a fucking maniac. God, I need coffee...”

When Jimmy came back into the bedroom, he was dressed in clothes that were rumpled and wrinkled. He sat next to her on the bed, but he kept his hands to himself. Kim fought the urge to reach out and stroke his cheek, drag a finger down to the hickey above his shirt collar.

“Are you gonna be okay?” he asked softly.

She forced one corner of her mouth to curve upward. “Yeah. I’m gonna call Howard and let him know I’m running a little late.”

“Okay.” Jimmy sat for a moment, hesitated to say something. He began to stumble forward anyway. “Are we…?”

Kim stopped him by pressing her lips to his. Now wasn’t the time. But something dark and selfish whispered back, _When is it ever?_

She leaned her forehead against his and made him a promise. “We can talk about it later.”

Jimmy sighed. It was a hopeful sound. “Right.”

* * *

“I just wanted to personally wish you my condolences again, Kim. It’s not easy losing a parent.”

Kim clasped her hands in her lap. Despite the closed door, the large windows surrounding her made this private meeting with Howard feel public. Blinds pulled up to the ceiling and the sun shining a spotlight on her.

“Thank you, Howard.”

“You know, my dad used to say that the best thing to do was to keep busy. Grief is different for everybody, and mind you, Dad was his work.” Howard looked down, and Kim saw a flash of the solemnity he hid when his own father passed away. He placed his mask back on, inspirational and empathetic. “But I think he had a point there. As much as we want it to, life doesn’t stop.”

She acknowledged his words with a short nod. “I need to make sure I get as much squared away for the trial as I can before I leave today. I haven’t scheduled a return flight yet, I wanted to check with you—”

“Kim, don’t you worry about it. If we need anything, I’ll give you a call to check in, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Okay.”

As she closed the door to Howard’s office, her body craved the heat and peace that came with smoking. Kim strode to the elevator doors, used her thumb to press the down button. As she did so, the cuff of her blazer slid back and revealed the small purple bite Jimmy imprinted on her skin. She pulled the cuff down, barely hearing the elevator sing to a stop and the doors open.

She startled at the sight of Chuck McGill standing in front of her.

“Oh! Sorry. Good afternoon, sir. How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing well, thank you.” Chuck replied. But right then he grimaced, eyes closed tight and nose wrinkled. Kim noticed that even despite the fluorescent lights above them, his skin was a sickly pallor. Minuscule beads of sweat dotted his brow as he dealt with this invisible pain.

He shook his head and paused before his expression shifted back into his proud demeanor. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this but... Howard told me about your loss this morning. I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“‘Chuck,’ please. You’ve worked here for eight years, and you’re an associate now. I think you've earned it.”

Kim clenched her jaw to stop it from dropping. “Okay.”

“I’m sure you must feel uncomfortable calling me ‘sir’ when my brother is obviously... a good friend of yours.”

The muscles in Kim’s back tensed at Chuck’s phrasing. An image flashed in her mind of the mark on Jimmy’s neck, displayed for the world to see. Including his older brother—her boss. He moved closer to her, and spoke in a low volume.

“Kim, I know what you’re going through. Especially when it’s happening during a big case. It comes with the territory of our field. But then again, there’s never such a thing as the perfect time, is there?”

She met his gaze, mirrored Chuck’s signature stoicism. “I guess not.”

“If you ever need to talk…” His words trailed off, but he reached out his hand. Chuck McGill was offering his condolences with a handshake. She took it, and his fingers awkwardly wrapped themselves around her hand. The bite mark on her wrist in plain sight.

“I appreciate that,” she said.

Chuck offered her a smile, and when he pulled away, his hand was flexing and tensing. 

* * *

Kim followed clumps of her fellow passengers, her luggage rolled and tottered behind her as she exited the gate. Lincoln International Airport bustled with people on the go. Rows of waiting chairs were filled with travelers and their belongings, while just a few feet away men and women were walking or running to their departing flights. She considered walking the length of the airport, her legs already stiff from her five hour flight. The drive to Red Cloud would be at least two more hours… Pauline would likely fill that time with talk of her kids and plans for the coming days. 

A popular FM station played through the airport’s sound system. A radio announcer modulating his voice invited listeners to keep their ears out for more golden oldies, listing upcoming songs from Elton John and the Supremes. Then a sound akin to a bell would interrupt and inform passengers of the next flight.

Kim reached into her purse and turned on her cellphone. _One missed call. One voicemail._ Why would Pauline call her while she was on the plane?

She pressed the phone to her ear.

“ _It’s me. I’m at the hospital. I’m fine, but Chuck… something’s wrong with Chuck. I don’t wanna do this to you right now, but I didn’t know who else to call. So… y’know what? Just ignore this if you get it. I’m sorry._ ”

Her thumb hit the speed dial without a thought. No service. She walked as fast as she could, dragging her carryon luggage behind her. She’s in the middle of the food court, right next to a set of bathrooms. One bar, two bars!

She hit the speed dial again. It began to ring...

“Kim?”

“Jimmy, are you okay? What’s wrong with Chuck?”

“He called me in a panic.” Jimmy’s voice cut in and out, and Kim kept walking and his sound became clearer. “Was screaming about how everything hurt. We got to the hospital, and it’s like it made everything worse.”

“Is it his migraines?”

“It’s his whole body. He says it feels a little better if the lights are turned off or things are unplugged, but… shit, Kim, they want me to send my brother to a mental hospital. He’s not crazy, Kim. He _can’t_ be crazy!”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I can’t lose him.”

As Jimmy babbled, Kim’s eyes met a little girl staring at her. Blonde pigtails tickled her cheeks and she touched them with a chubby hand. The little girl pointed at her and waved. She’s too far away to understand, but her small lips curl around the words “hair” and “me.” Kim smiled and waved back. The girl smiled, buried her face shyly in her father’s shoulder.

Kim caught the tail end of a song the playing over the speaker:

“ _So goodbye yellow brick road_  
 _Where the dogs of society howl_  
 _You can't plant me in your penthouse_  
 _I'm going back to my plough…_ ”

Her mother and father danced next to a bonfire, drunk and oblivious to the inevitable fights and the future that would shatter them into sharp glass pieces. Slowly spinning around and around, engulfed in each other. Then Beth Wexler, spying her daughter, acknowledged her with a smile and a wave. And Kim, dressed head to toe as Dorothy Gale, waved back as a song blared in from some forgotten redneck’s car.

_“Back to the howling old owl in the woods_   
_Hunting the horny back toad_   
_Oh, I've finally decided my future lies_   
_Beyond the yellow brick road…”_

Tears pricked at her eyes and a cold panic punched her in the gut.

“Jimmy, I have to go. Can I call you back?”

“No, I have to go, too. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m sorry about this.”

“It’s okay. Bye.”

Kim slammed the phone shut, abandoned her luggage as she ran into the bathroom.

_Fine, don’t listen to me. You never listen!_

_Then why are you leaving me?_

_I love you, Kim._

She stumbled into the stall, and the moment she locked the door, she started to hyperventilate. The sobs coming out of her were wretched, salty tears blinding her and staining her cheeks. She covered her mouth, muting the screams that tried to claw out of her throat. Her face burned from the effort of it all. She could hear toilets flushing and faucets turning on and off. _Life doesn’t stop._

She’s exhausted after minutes or hours pass, her body occasionally eking out a wail or a new set of tears. Her phone vibrated in her hand, rattling though her. She took a deep breath in, and released a long exhale. And again. And again. 

Then she put the phone to her ear and spoke, her voice calm and professional.

“Kim Wexler.”

“Kim, it’s Howard.”

“Hi, Howard. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, thank you. Listen, I hate to do this, but something’s come up with the Kleinman case. How soon do you think—?”

Kim didn’t let him finish. “I’ll call the airport and see what I can do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you, Kim. I’m so sorry about this.”

Kim ended the call. She unlocked the stall, snatched a paper towel from the dispenser, dabbed her eyes. Her face was red and puffy. Her eyes looked like ice crystals melting... It was the best she could do until her mask hid her from view again. She took another breath before she dialed another number.

“Pauline, it’s Kim…”

* * *

Kim threw her cigarette onto the concrete sidewalk, smashing with the sole of her heel. She ground it deeper into the earth, white flecks from the rock collecting on black leather. She removed her foot and underneath was the corpse of her cigarette, ripped paper and black ashes flattened and deformed.

Taxis and shuttles interweaved with each other, picking up tourists. College students returning home for winter break. Businessmen and businesswomen flying in for a day before flying back out again. Each one of them completely unaware and uninterested in the lives that happened concurrently.

A yellow car with a single red door parked several feet away from her, unwilling to fight taxis and minivans for prime spots. She walked in its direction, watched as Jimmy McGill stepped out of the driver’s side. He said nothing, barely looked at her as he gently took the suitcase from her hand, opened the trunk and laid it flat.

“Thanks for picking me up,” she said.

“Sure.” His mouth quirked to the side. Not a smirk, not a frown. Something neutral. Something that said, _This is my own fault. I should have expected this._

They climbed into the car and Jimmy shifted into gear. Kim watched the airport recede in the side mirror, the structure getting smaller and smaller and airplanes flying up and away to god knows where. Specks of humans climbing into taxis, colliding with each other in tight embraces.

“Chuck’s taking a leave of absence from HHM,” he told her. “I’m helping him out until we can find out what’s wrong with him.”

“How long?”

“Don’t know.” What else was there to say? Now wasn’t the time. The conversation died there, only the hum of the Esteem’s engine filling the divide between them. 

Kim traced the telephone wires marking the desert sky with thin black lines. Not a cloud in the sky. She glanced briefly at Jimmy, noticed how his skin and hers take on a warm glow as the sun’s fiery edges kiss the horizon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, leave some kudos. Or a comment! I love answering comments.


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